Brief was the reign of such a spell. 
One morning sounded out a bell;
With tears I saw her brown eyes swim
And knew that it was calling him. 
Time, the harsh master of us all,
Was bidding him to heed his call;
This shadow fell across life’s pool—­
Our boy was on his way to school.

Our little boy!  And still we dreamed,
For such a little boy he seemed! 
And yesterday, with eyes aglow
Like one who has just come to know
Some great and unexpected bliss,
He bounded in, announcing this: 
“Oh, Dad!  Oh, Ma!  Say, what d’you think? 
This year we’re going to write with ink!”

Here was a change I’d not foreseen,
Another step from what had been. 
I paused a little while to think
About this older age of ink—­
What follows this great step, thought I,
What next shall come as the time goes by? 
And something said:  “His pathway leads
Unto the day he’ll write with deeds.”

No Use Sighin’

No use frettin’ when the rain comes down,
No use grievin’ when the gray clouds frown,
No use sighin’ when the wind blows strong,
No use wailin’ when the world’s all wrong;
Only thing that a man can do
Is work an’ wait till the sky gets blue.

No use mopin’ when you lose the game,
No use sobbin’ if you’re free from shame,
No use cryin’ when the harm is done,
Just keep on tryin’ an’ workin’ on;
Only thing for a man to do,
Is take the loss an’ begin anew.

No use weepin’ when the milk is spilled,
No use growlin’ when your hopes are killed,
No use kickin’ when the lightnin’ strikes
Or the floods come along an’ wreck your dykes;
Only thing for a man right then
Is to grit his teeth an’ start again.

For it’s how life is an’ the way things are
That you’ve got to face if you travel far;
An’ the storms will come an’ the failures, too,
An’ plans go wrong spite of all you do;
An’ the only thing that will help you win,
Is the grit of a man and a stern set chin.

No Children!

No children in the house to play—­
It must be hard to live that way! 
I wonder what the people do
When night comes on and the work is through,
With no glad little folks to shout,
No eager feet to race about,
No youthful tongues to chatter on
About the joy that’s been and gone? 
The house might be a castle fine,
But what a lonely place to dine!

No children in the house at all,
No fingermarks upon the wall,
No corner where the toys are piled—­
Sure indication of a child. 
No little lips to breathe the prayer
That God shall keep you in His care,
No glad caress and welcome sweet
When night returns you to your street;
No little lips a kiss to give—­
Oh, what a lonely way to live!

No children in the house!  I fear
We could not stand it half a year. 
What would we talk about at night,
Plan for and work with all our might,
Hold common dreams about and find
True union of heart and mind,
If we two had no greater care
Than what we both should eat and wear? 
We never knew love’s brightest flame
Until the day the baby came.